Title: Beauty
Author: Queen
Rating: PG
Mail: queen2126@hotmail.com
Summary: A fairy tale about the beauty of the heart.
Hi minna! And welcome to "Beauty." Not much by way of notes, mostly that I
don't know Ami's mother's name. Does she even have one?!? If she does,
please mail and let me know! Otherwise, I made one up for her here.
Usual stuff-
Sailor Moon and all things relating to it do not belong to me, but to Naoko
Takeuchi, Toei Anime, Chix Comix, Pocket Mixx, and DiC. The story belongs to
the world.
I'd love to hear any comments and/or questions! Please mail me at
queen2126@hotmail.com
So, ja ne, and enjoy!
-Queen
Beauty-
Part 1-Portrait of a Empty Heart
Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face
Terror, the Human Form Divine
And Secrecy, the Human Dress
The Human Dress, is forged in Iron
The Human Form, a fiery Forge.
The Human Face, a Furnace seal'd
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge.
A Divine Image - Songs of Experience
William Blake
Once upon a time, as the tale must always begin....
The Enchantress Speaks....
Beauty is a thing of the heart. There is a saying I heard once, long ago,
that beauty resides within the soul, not the skin of the one who wears it.
There are times that I watch from my home among the clouds, the faces of
those who live on the Earth. Who live and love, die and are reborn. There
are many tales of such things, told and whispered into legend. Such things
are done softly, without the restraints of the literal world. Imagination is
the timekey to these tales, where the fantastic becomes the reality, and the
dullness of everyday life is lost to the greatness of the heart. I shall
tell you of the beauty of one heart, the simple kindness of a spirit, and
her strength of mind and clarity of vision. But as in all tales of the fairy
world, it begins with ugliness....
Two ruby red drops of blood slid along her skin, falling onto the oaken
floor. With a small exclamation of pain, she stared at the cut finger.
"Everything all right, Ami?" a young girl behind the counter asked, tilting
her head to one side. Birdlike, she hopped off her perch behind the counter
and came over.
"Fine, Hotaru." Ami smiled, pinching her cut finger. "Papercut."
"Put it in your mouth and suck on it."
Ami laughed lightly, but obeyed, and the sting faded away.
"You get a lot of those, working in a bookshop."
"I'd imagine." Ami agreed.
"Find anything today?"
Ami glanced up at the shelves, the colored titles neatly displayed,
declaring their topic and author. Her eyes slid into the poetry section. "I
thought you said you'd be getting a fresh copy of 'The Canterbury Tales.'"
"We did. Zoicite bought it two days ago. I don't know if we'll be able to
get another in for a bit. The copying and translation takes so long."
"Mm." Ami bit her lip, tucking it between her teeth. She sighed after a
moment, watching the little girl before her. Hotaru was waiting patiently
for her to make her choice. An oddly shaped shadow was resting on Hotaru's
upturned face, dark in the glow of the sunlight. The grey spot of the letter
'c' from the gold painted "Enchanting Books" on the store window. Ami had
been so excited to see the little store open last fall, at last a place for
her to tuck herself away in. Hotaru and her father ran the shop, catering to
the small populace of avid booklovers in the village. "Well, is there
anything else?"
"That you haven't read? I'm afraid not, unless you want another penny
romance."
Ami flushed and shook her head. The last time she had been desperate had
ended up in the cheap purchase of some silly novel about a moon princess.
Such strange ideas people had sometimes. Then again, Chaucer was full of
dirty jokes and beer. Who knew?
"Thank you, Hotaru. But I think I'll pass today. If you see Zoicite..." Ami
turned slightly pink, "tell him I'd like to borrow it when he's finished
with it."
"Of course!" Hotaru grinned up at her. "Would you like to stay for a bit?
Papa's gone out to do the day's shopping."
Shaking her head, Ami refused. "Mother's got plans to go to the outer
cottages this afternoon. I have to be home to mind the office."
"That's all right. I'm reading Marie de France. The 'Lais' always have some
magical tales. Keeps me busy." Retreating to her perch, Hotaru squirmed into
place, kicking her skirts out of the way.
"Then I'll see you later, Hotaru."
"Bye, Ami!"
With a ringing clatter of the doorbell, Ami swung her brown skirts up
before her to avoid a stream of water on the cobblestones. Quietly heading
back to her home and workplace, Ami watched the people rushing around her,
beautiful as a vase of cut flowers. Money being exchanged from one hand to
another, horses stamping their feet and snorting. She heard a bang and then
a very loud curse from the cartwright's shop. Ami winced along with several
other people at the fluidity of the language.
"Business coming in," Ami laughed weakly as she pulled open the door.
"Who?" Her mother asked as she placed a jar of salve into the knapsack she
was filling.
"Sounded like Haruka."
Sayuri Mizuno sighed with a frown and a shake of her head. "That woman
needs to be more careful. Is she working on that strange contraption of hers
again?"
It was well known in the village that Haruka was working...loudly, at
times...to develop a lighter carriage for horse racing. "Most likely," Ami
agreed with a slight grin.
"I'd better wait for her, then...."
"It's all right, Mother. I'll take care of it. You get going. You should
have left by now. I don't like it when you come home so late in the night."
"Too many hobgoblins for you?" Sayuri chuckled, swinging the knapsack onto
her back. "The path of town healer is one full of adventure, Ami. Have to
travel a bit away from the office. House calls are fully necessary." Sayuri
flopped a wide brimmed straw hat onto her head, tying its decorative pink
scarf under her ear, the broad bow flapping against her shoulder. "How do I
look?" Sayuri held out her hands in display and twirled once, sea green
skirts petaling around her.
"Fine, Mother. Go, please! Is Fleur hitched?"
"Fleur has been stomping her hooves for almost ten minutes. I've been
waiting to say goodbye before I left."
"Goodbye, Mother," Ami gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Be careful."
"Oh, and I was planning on being reckless. But just for you, Ami," she
winked playfully and headed out to the stable behind the house. Their clinic
was the entire first floor of the house, a set of stairs heading up into the
second level, the living quarters.
"Damn thin-ach! Michiru! Don't-!
"Hold still and stop waving your hand around or you'll make it worse!"
Ami sighed. Haruka and Michiru had apparently arrived, announcing
themselves as they came.
"Your trying to squash my hand is not-!"
"You're the one who smashed your hand! Be still!"
Ami held the door wide as the pair trooped in, the male-dressed blonde
Haruka trying to shout down the perfectly coiffed aquamarine haired
Michiru's diatribe.
"Is it broken?" Ami asked quietly into the fight. With a sudden stillness,
they glared at each other, then Haruka rolled her eyes, causing Michiru to
giggle.
"No," Haruka informed her as she dropped into a chair. "But it looks like
crap. And mama here," she jerked a thumb and Michiru, "decided she wanted to
nurse me back to health."
Michiru decided she wanted to ignore the last bit of bait, and sighed,
folding her arms. "She's got splinters. A lot."
Shuffling past jars of poultice, Ami found the yarrow and St. Johns wort
salve she was searching for. Then she reached for the tweezers and a needle.
"This might hurt a bit," she warned as she approached the couple.
It was late. Sayuri, for her lighthearted teasing of her daughter that
morning, hated being late. More, she hated being lost. Especially when she
should know her way by now. At her last stop, the clouds had swept in with
frightening speed, obscuring the setting sun. East and west lost, north and
south had suddenly become topsy turvy as well. The scent of rain made the
air thick and humid. Sayuri wiped her navy hair from her eyes, knocking the
hat off in the process, so that it clung to her neck by the pink sash. Fleur
rolled her eyes and stomped, snorting at her rider's confusion and
discomfort. Looking up and down the empty trails, she saw the tunnel of
trees swish and crackle against each other in the rising wind. She needed to
get home. Sayuri knew better than to panic. Fleur, however, with the static
in the air growing, bolted as a finger of lightning thundered down to the
earth, whipcracking the air.
Skirts flying around her legs, Sayuri held on, head leaning close to
Fleur's pounding roan muscles. She felt, through Fleur, the ground change
beneath her, the wild roots of the forest gone, replaced by a rocky and
pitted trail. Trying to see through her hair lashed eyes, the ground blurred
below. A few more breathless strides, and the ground became a road, hard and
cobbled, the iron hooves on Fleur's feet clanging harshly against the grey
stone. She pulled her head up, trying to see through their speed the
destination Fleur had chosen for her panic.
"No! Fleur, woah! Woah! No!" she tried to pull herself back to haul on the
reins, but she instead found she had only time enough to latch her fingers
into Fleur's red mane as the mare gathered herself to jump the broken gates.
Sayuri felt the hair in her fingers rip, torn from her hands. She was too
shocked to scream as she flew off Fleur's back, trying to roll as she fell.
The last thing she remembered was that she did not want to have a compound
fracture.
Droplets of rainwater clung precariously to her lashes as she opened them.
She was wet, soaked through her clothing, yet the storm in the sky was
abating. Through the remaining grey wisps, the diamonds began to sparkle on
the velvet of the night sky. Sayuri tried, slowly, to move her fingers.
"Working...." and down through the checklist of body joints and aches. Glass
and pottery crunched beneath her, and she slipped away from the slick
surface of the bridge, where the contents of her knapsack had been crushed
by her fall. She touched her back tentatively, hissing as she brought her
hand back, fingers slick with blood from the shards of the jars. She moved
slowly, the dried blood turning the edges of the rips stiff as the fresh
scars reopened on movement, bleeding again. "Ungh..." She minced forward,
bent and stooped. She had little choice now, craning her head back to see
the palisade before her. Glorious several years ago, it was now fallen into
ruin, and a remarkable amount of ruin for the few years it had been empty.
Haunted, the people of the village now said. The disappearance of the prince
and his servants had gone on in rumor for many years now. She couldn't go
back at this time of night. Clearing though it was, she was injured, and,
fortunately, knew how to take care of herself.
Unfortunately, it was here. She hesitated for a moment, toying with the
possibility of going back, foolish as she knew it was. She closed her eyes,
steeling herself.
She was a healer. It was her duty to be calm in a time of crisis, and to
heal when injured. Even if the person was herself. But her mind rebelled
against that rationality, the fear of loneliness and of the forbidding
castle rising within and above her. "I am not afraid," she told herself.
"I'm not!" she insisted to the dark form of Fleur in the doorway. She
breathed deeply. "I'm not," then shuffled her way to the horse. "Let these
be...intact," she grunted with satisfaction as she found several of her
tools in the saddlebags, as well as a spare supply of salve and willow bark.
"To get in," she looked at the doorway. It couldn't possibly be open? She
tried it. Sure enough, the door creaked, but swung easily enough. "Mmmph..."
she groaned as she hauled off Fleur's saddlebags. Tears sprang to her eyes
as the skin stretched painfully. Biting her lip hard, she focused her energy
there, trying to ignore the stinging in her back, and the ache that was
beginning in her spine. Staggering inside, she kept her eyes down, glancing
up from under the fringe of her hair to see just beyond her.
Wide marble squares checkered the floor as she found her way to a room.
Picking out a pair of tongs, she maneuvered her arms up and behind her back,
wincing as she felt for the stuck pieces. Slowly, she began to pick them
out, squatting on the floor, the light of the emerging moon spilling through
the window, giving her a bit of light. Time passed slowly, but Sayuri was
patient, setting the bloody shards before her knees. As she worked, she
dried, tufts of hair lightening around her head while others clung still.
She felt again and again, until it seemed to her probing fingers that there
were no slivers left in her skin. Strangely, she did not feel sleepy, but
rather the feeling of satisfaction that accompanied a good job. She backed
away from the glass before her, standing nervously. She touched the bandage
around her chest and back now. "Ami will redo it in the morning," Sayuri
decided, looking around the room through her navy eyes. She shrugged on the
bloody shirt, leaving the bodice alone, for it was too constricting. "Modest
even though alone, Sayuri?" her own feeble attempt at humor made her feel
better. If she could joke a bit, she must feel better. And no ghosts had
come to spook, wail, haunt or kill her. She fastened the buttons.
The bandage was tight, as should be, but she no longer stooped. She began
to amble forward, peering around the hall outside her room for a better
look. She had never been in a castle before. High Gothic architecture flew
up in ribs above her, heavy candle chandeliers hanging silently from the
ceiling. Her feet were silent on a royal blue carpet that spanned the length
of the hall. Curiosity getting the better of her, Sayuri decided to venture
out. Ever practical, she returned to her bags, fumbling for her bit of flint
and iron. The taper on her candle was low. She glanced around. Candles were
in plenty. She chose one with a votive and lit it, replacing the glass
hurricane. The familiar orange and yellow glow of fire cheered her, and she
held it aloft before her like a talisman. "I'm not afraid," she said with
certainty. "Just a big old house."
With a curt nod at herself, she set out to explore, her fear beginning to
dissipate with the flame's light. Mirrors had been hung along the walls, and
heavy tapestries. She wound her way through, holding the candle high as she
found a shadowy portrait beside a grandfather clock. Squinting, she watched
the play of light across the face of the boy, whose large brown eyes watched
back at her with cool detachment. "The prince," Sayuri recognized, stepping
away.
She wandered for some time, growing less fearful of the castle, and more in
awe of it. Stained glass allowed dark colored patterns on the rich
carpeting, and she stepped though them until she reached a long, narrow
hallway. One side lay mirrors, large and small, oblong and round, reflecting
the image on the hall's opposite side.
There was a wrought series of stained glass images inlaid there, subdued
colors mingled with the brighter colors of the people on it. Feeling uneasy
for the first time since her arrival, Sayuri felt her stomach lurch when she
heard a sad sigh behind her. She spun, skittering. There was no one, though
now she felt as though being watched. She crept further along the corridor,
edging past the montage of glass, refusing to look beyond the swirling
images in the first scene.
The gardens opened into the night sky, which was now clear save for far
distant clouds to the east. A crescent moon smiled lazily down from above,
and she walked into the hanging foliage. Lavender, heather, poppies, morning
glories, all lined the walkways and bushes in a maze. Snapdragons and lilies
sprouted up near a birdbath. And as she reached the center of the curving
shrubbery, a gazebo stood, wreathed in a riot of red and white roses. She
stepped within, running her fingers over the petals and smelling them
lightly. "How beautiful," Sayuri murmured. She looked around the vine,
running a finger lightly down the thick stem, avoiding the thorns. Softly
she whispered, "I should take one home. Ami would love it. I never come home
with presents anymore...."
She wrapped her fingers around the stem and broke it.
The wick of the candle was a spot of black in a pool of white wax. Ami
blearily stuck her bookmark into the page. Sitting halfway up in bed, she
faintly touched its creamy paper and hand inked letters. "The Wife of Bath's
Tale," she smiled faintly. What women really want? Well, maybe. She felt a
faint blush begin to spread on her face. After fixing up Haruka, she had
been paid a small visit by Zoicite, who was nervously holding his copy of
"The Canterbury Tales."
"For you. To read," he had said pushing the book at her. "Mind if I come
in?"
That had led to a small but neat dinner, while Zoicite told her about the
wonders of Chaucer's mind. It had been a small but pleasant meal, a leg of
venison that her mother had traded for two days prior with Kunzite, one of
the local woodsmen. Zoicite, however, was a cottar, with a few acres
belonging to him alone. Ami was quite aware of Zoicite's attentions to her
over the last few weeks, a quiet but determined persistence of casual
meetings. Ami rubbed her eyes, the grit sticking to the palm of her hand.
She wasn't quite sure of her feelings towards him. He was very kind, and at
seventeen, she was quite fully a grown woman for her day. It was time to
begin considerations into the idea of marriage. And she could certainly do
worse. He caused a faint blush to her cheeks, though she wasn't sure if it
were merely the flattery of an interested male, or something more. Ami shook
her head to clear it. Gazing sleepily at the hour candle across the room,
she noticed that it had burned very low. She blinked in disbelief, head
clearing from pleasant drowsiness. Tightening a shawl around her shoulders,
she checked her mother's room, uncertainty growing. Napping she may have
been, but she slept lightly, and would have heard her mother's return. To
her growing sense of alarm, the bed was, as she had begun to suspect, empty.
Turning, she hurried down the stairs, maneuvering around table and chair in
the dark. Barefoot, she crossed into the stable to find Fleur still gone.
"Mama?" she felt her heart begin to beat faster. Mother was never this late.
It was possible she had stayed at another house for the night, but.... Ami
felt fear beginning to fill her. Something was wrong. She could feel it.
She grasped the doorframe for a moment, then whirled, rushing back into the
house. She flew halfway up the stairs when she heard the faint thump at the
door.
"Mother!" whirling again, she leapt back to the main floor, and ripped the
door open. Sayuri stood at the doorframe for a moment teetering.
"Ami?" the word was relieved, exhausted. Sayuri pitched forward, Ami
catching her.
"Mama, what happened? Are you- no, of course you're not. Come on," Ami half
dragged her mother into the room, lying her down in the clinic's bed.
"Mother, what's this?" Ami pried a crushed item out of her mother's hand.
She stared at it for a moment, then gasped at the dry, black curls and
dropped it. "A dead rose? Mother? Mama? What happened?"
A wash of pain rolled over Sayuri's features. "Fleur ran off. Bolted. The
castle. The old one. Inside. Oh, Ami." Long fingers were placed over her
face as she curled up. "Inside...inside...."
"Mama, hush. It's all right. You're safe now. You'll feel better in the
morning. It was a bad dream, that's...."
"No!" Sayuri shouted, bucking upright. She grabbed Ami's wrists tightly,
forcing her to look her in the eyes. Two sets of lazuli eyes met, Ami's wide
and fearful, Sayuri's terrified but certain. "No," she repeated, more
calmly. "Not a dream. The scars on my back. I fell. Fleur went to the
castle. There's demon inside. A monster."
"Mama," Ami began soothingly, trying to placate her again.
"Listen to me," Sayuri said it as a mother to a disobedient child. "Listen.
The rose. I took it. He's mad. Insane. Evil. But I have no choice. I have
to...." Sayuri bit her lip, looking down a moment to gather herself. "I
begged. To say goodbye. Ami, tomorrow. Evening. I have to go back. To go
back....."
Sayuri's face constricted, twisting. Her grip loosened, and Ami slipped out
of it, the welts of her mother's fingers plain on her skin. Sayuri lay on
the bed, fists clenched in the sheet. Ami stared a moment at her mother's
ashen face. Then her mind began to slip out of shock, sending consideration
of her mother's words to the back of her mind for later thought.
Practicality was needed now. Ami hurried to the cupboards of herbs and began
to steep camomile and willow bark for tea.
Ami watched her mother's sleeping form, brows knitted in concentration.
Mother was sick, apparently. She brushed a hand across the forehead. It was
warm, but without the beginnings of fever. Her face was white, though her
pulse steady. She had continued sweating. Shock, Ami decided. And people
don't go into shock without reason. Falling from Fleur was the most likely
cause. But she had been calm enough to pull several pieces of glass and
broken crockery from her back. So then the shock had come after? But from
what? A monster? A demon? Impossible...wasn't it? Ami knew of the legends
and rumors that shrouded the place in the forest, where the cliffs met the
ocean. That a monster stalked the place was possible, she presumed, but
entirely unlikely. Who had ever heard of a demon near the village?
Her sensible mind rejected the possibility of a supernatural reason such as
that. Then what had her mother seen to frighten her so? Lips pursed in
worry, she stood. Mother was sleeping soundly now. She peeked out into the
street. Fleur was dozing there, saddleless.
"Come on," Ami took her halter and led the horse around into the stable.
She frowned at her feet. Yuck, still bare in the straw and dirt. The simple
occurrence of such a mundane thing as dirty feet seemed to draw her back
from her meandering thoughts. "Well, Fleur, did you see any monsters?" The
horse tossed her head, sending reddish hair flying with a snort. "You seem
very calm about it," Ami told the horse, picking up a brush and combing out
the mane, rhythmically rubbing the sweaty hide. "You did have a good run
though. Or are you just wet?"
The pungent smell of wet horse drifted through the air as Ami brushed and
groomed, at last setting a blanket over Fleur's back. "Do you think there's
a monster, Fleur? Mother's unlikely to have made it up, sick or not,
but...impossible, isn't it? I suppose so."
Wandering back into the clinic, she watched the steady rise and fall of the
bedsheet, her mother's form underneath. Ami's eyes narrowed somewhat. "She
believes it. Sick or not, Mother wouldn't have been seeing things. Not after
calming down and taking care of her back. But still, she won't believe
it...." an idea bubbled into Ami's mind. "She'll be fine after a good sleep.
But I couldn't. Could I?" Ami bit her lip, considering. After a moment, she
gave a curt nod, coming to a decision. She turned and ran upstairs, coming
down again a few minutes later. She swept up a black cloak from its hook in
the front hall, a strange brooch of silver and a lapis lazuli stone clasping
it together, an interlocked triangular weave of Celtic knotwork. She drew
the hood up over her head, obscuring her face from view. She took a small
bag with candles and flint with her. She scratched a note with a quill,
leaving the ink to dry as she swept out the door to the stables.
"Sorry, girl," she apologized to the grumpily awakened Fleur. "I know
you've been running around tonight. I'll get you some apples tomorrow,
promise."
She received a snort in return. Ami swung herself up into the saddle,
wheeling her head around and giving a sharp command and kick forward. With a
slow but gaining clip, Fleur began to dart down over the cobbled streets,
leaving Ami's cloak to wing out behind her.
In her rush to speed into the night, Ami did not see a strange thing begin
to occur to the dead petals that lay at the foot of her mother's bed. Very
slowly, the blackness had begun to drain away, revealing the lush red of a
vibrant living flower.
Forbidding at night, the castle's buttresses and spires did not seem so
frightening by dawn's rosy streaked light. The sun rising behind her, Ami
approached the broken iron gate, lazily clanging against up against its
upright neighbor. She slipped down from Fleur, hauling on the chains. Ami
glanced at Fleur. "You jumped this?" Fleur looked smug, tossing her head.
Ami tried again, pulling out her flint and jamming it into the lock, picking
it. With a soft click, the lock gave way, chains falling to her feet. She
glanced at Fleur. "You want to stay here?" Fleur responded by turning tail
and grazing on some nearby grass. "I'll take that as a yes."
The door to the castle was open, and creaked as she pushed it forward, a
long stretch of reddish morning light slanting before her, let in by her
entrance, piercing the darkness. She pulled the hood back, settling it
around her shoulders. Her feet tread softly on the carpet.
Deciding she would look around, she began to wander.Her mother would have
to be convinced that she had dreamed it if Ami couldn't find anything
within. This would be proof. By the time Sayuri was awake, Ami would have
returned, safely, and have proven that she had been dreaming. The silence
around her was deafening. Nothing here seemed to have any noise. The
familiar sounds of people outside or of her mother's motions were absent
here, the monotone sounds that make you comfortable in a home. This place
was barren, cold.
Suddenly having the urge to break the silence, Ami turned, looking up,
calling, "Hello?"
Hello?
Hello?
Ello?
Lo?
Echoed down the corridors, growing fainter as the sound traveled. She felt
odd, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. She spun to see that a
portrait of a young boy had been hung on the wall. She walked to it, looking
up into the eyes of the painting. The boy had been handsome, she decided.
But the image showed a coldness in his face, an odd distance in the eyes.
She reached out, fingers trailing lightly down the portrait's cheek.
Before she realized what had happened, she discovered she had been turned
around, slammed into the wall. She was too surprised to scream, only gasp as
a heavy hand crashed against her throat. Instinctively, she tried to step
back, only having her heel meet the wall.
A gruff male voice roared furiously into her face, "Who are you?" sending
her azure blue hair flying back around her head as the hot breath snorted
around her. She clutched at the monstrous wrist, her tiny fingers sinking
into the fur of her captor. She gurgled slightly, unable to speak. Two
narrow eyes locked into hers. She looked up the lupine face, traveling up
the narrow, blunted snout into the cold chestnut eyes. Fur rippled around
his face, brown and beige, with a strip of ocher running over his shoulders
and vanishing into his back. A set of curled, back angled horns curved over
his head. She felt claws begin to cut into her neck. "Who are you?" he
demanded again.
"Ami...Mizuno."
"Why are you here?"
She felt her knees begin to give, and fought to stand. She tried to
breathe, but the grip did not loosen. "My mother...."
"You're the child of that thief?"
Thief? Her mother? Ami felt a tiny surge of anger towards the demon before
her. Who was he to call her mother such a thing? "My mother..." she gasped,
"is a healer, not a thief!"
The lupine eyes narrowed, and she felt the grip loosen, and she fell back
into the wooden frame of the portrait. Ami's palms struck the stone,
searching for familiar contact. The monster snarled before her. "Your mother
the healer," he said harshly, making the title of 'healer' sound like an
insult, "had best return before the night."
"Or?"
The shaggy brows of the monster rose slightly as he dropped to all fours,
pawing back a step. "Or? Or I come and get her."
"Get her?"
"Your mother stole from me last night."
Ami thought frantically, "She only had a rose with her when she returned-"
"My rose! My own! Killed my flower, stole it! I let her in my home, let her
alone, didn't touch her!" The demon roared, tilting his neck up, screaming
it to the rafters as though to convince some unseen audience. "I let her in!
Trespasser!I showed no harm to her! And she stole from me!" the chestnut
eyes returned to Ami, and in their fury they refracted shades of amber and
yellow, gleaming. "Do you realize what those roses mean?" He was in rage
now, howling. Ami clamped her hands over her ears as the castle's hallways
rang and echoed with clambering sounds.
Mother was right, Ami knew. A demon! A monster! But how? Haunted. They say
that all the people vanished within the walls of the castle. Did this beast
kill them? Then, if he wanted Mother back...then he would kill her as well!
Ami felt herself break into a cold sweat. Mother couldn't die...in the state
she was in when she arrived, she was nearly feverish. Ami felt too many
things begin to whirl through her mind, a charbdyis of thought and panicked
emotion. She could not let such a thing happen!
"Can I do something? Anything?" she cried in desperation, falling to the
floor at last. "Please, don't kill my mother!"
The Beast's howls faded into the halls as his eyes met Ami's sparkling
lazuli ones. "What could you possibly do?"
Her hands spasmed on the hem of her dress. She watched the veins in the
back of her hands, flexing the muscles, the bones. She looked at the finger
she had cut on the paper the day before. A tiny line of white was there,
sure to be gone in a few hours, barely puckered where the skin met. The
words fell so softly from her lips that the Beast dropped lower to the
ground and shoved his snout closer.
"What did you say?"
Ami felt her world shatter.
"Take me in her place."
It was cold in her chamber, yet Ami did not feel it. She knelt on her bed,
overstuffed and billowed as it was, fingers wrapped tightly around a
pinecone tipped bedpost. She dug in with her fingers until it pained her to
do so, eyes shut so tightly that trickles of tears glistened on her cheeks.
"Why?" Again and again she repeated it, sometimes loudly, some times
choking. But now it was a whisper, her delicate voice coarse as rawhide. She
could feel her nails split against the wood. It felt good to hold on to
something, hold hard, to strangle it. It distracted her from the rest of the
world, even as the pain in her hands filled her mind. But it was just that.
A distraction. The soreness in her fingers would eventually require
easement. She let them slip down the mahogany, the sweaty imprint and
crescent shapes of her nails leaving their mark on the wood. Short waves of
hair fell into her eyes as she pressed her forehead against the post,
resting there, the hair a veil between herself and the outside.
He hadn't killed her.
She wasn't sure if this was good or not.
A Beast in the castle. A murderer. He had to be the cause of the
disappearances of the court, surely. And now, of all ridiculous things, he
had requested her to come to dinner. She wanted to stay in her room, to wait
forever. Food? Irrelevant to her sanity. Water, however.... She licked dry
lips, feeling a parched mouth. A small part of her thought that perhaps she
was the meal. Strangely, she knew she would not be. As the Beast had
commanded her, his eyes...she clamped her eyelids down and let them flutter
open, wiping them with her palms. No, she decided. There was something odd
in those chestnut eyes. What it was, she did not know.
She glanced around her room, and against her wishes, felt her stomach cramp
with hunger. She had promised to remain within the walls of the castle.
Never to leave. In her mother's place. Why? Why alive, but here forever?
What good would such a thing do? And the Beast did not seem to like her
company much, save for this strange invitation to supper.
For the first time in many hours, she set her feet onto the ground,
stumbling as her sleeping, numbed feet awoke to reality. There was a dresser
in the room, and an elaborately scrolled closet. Beyond this lay a set of
French doors, opening onto a stone balcony, long swaths of ivy waterfalling
down the pillars. The room was richly furnished, a heavily embroidered
fleur-de-lis of silver on imperial purple as her bedspread, mountains of
pillows barricading the wall. The candelabra was unlit, making the unicorn
and dragon tapestry behind it shadowy and dark.
Ami placed a hand on the carved knob of the closet, pulling it open. Within
hung dresses of amazing beauty. Wealth beyond her and her mother's means.
Brocade, chemise, toole, linen, fine lawn and lace.
"How lovely...." she murmured softly, trailing a finger along the edge of a
bone lace petticoat.
"I'm glad you like them!" A bright voice cheered. "I picked them out
myself!" The disembodied voice continued as Ami whirled, frantically
searching for her spy. "I'm up here! No, over here! No! Above the fireplace!
See? Hi!"
Ami felt her mouth drop slightly open as she gazed into a painting. She
blinked several times, realizing that it was not a painting at all. She saw
herself reflected clearly in it, the posts of the bed rising behind her.
There, above the fireplace mantle, a wide, rectangular, heavily framed
mirror hung. And in the mirror, the head and chest of a pretty young woman
stood, grinning down at her. The mirror girl waved at her, bracelets
jangling on her wrist. She was dressed regally, and thus very expensively. A
burnished orange dress with full sleeves and a deep indigo sash over her
shoulder. Her yellow hair had been tied back at the sides into a bright red
bow, which would have clashed with any other person. The girl was beaming at
Ami now. "Never seen a girl trapped in a mirror before?"
Ami shook her head no.
"I'm Minako Aino," the girl introduced herself. "I'd curtsy, but then I'd
be under the mirror's line and you couldn't see me."
"Ami Mizuno."
"Hi. Nice to see some new blood around here, huh? This place is so dull!"
"I'm...sure." Ami said uncertainly.
"I'm so glad you like my clothes! This used to be my room, you know,"
Minako informed her conspiratorially. "The Master brought you up here, huh?
It'll be so much fun having someone new to talk to!"
Ami got the feeling that Minako would be this chatty all the time. "This
was your room? But-"
"Yes! And everything in it was chosen by me. You like my clothes?" she
asked mournfully. "I wish I could change. I'm stuck in this dress forever.
Used to be my favorite. But now, every day, every night. Same thing. Do you
have any idea how boring that can be?"
"Well, no," Ami admitted. "But you have very rich taste."
Minako eyes filled with pride. She struck a pose, lifting her hair up in
her hands. "I'm an idol for men to worship. I must be pristine, unmatched in
beauty and perfection."
There was a loud popping sound from the other side of the room. The candle
that rested beside Ami's bed flicked to life, a tiny figure emerging as a
flame. Fiery hair swirled upward, as tiny toes barely held to the wick. The
only part of the fairy sized body that was not of flame were a pair of wide,
dark violet eyes."Well, at least you have a body, miss Venus de Milo!" the
figure snapped irritably. Two slender arms separated from the main expanse
of the figure, as she began to examine herself, front and back, turning
delicately on her pinprick of candlewick. "I've got curves," she made a
gesture at her hips and chest, "but no features! This is so weird! Who came
up with this idea?"
"Who are you?" Ami asked, coming to sit beside the firefairy.
"Rei Hino," she replied, sighing and running a hand into her hair, which
crackled and flew back up into the air. "And my hair stands on end, and I
can't put my feet down! Ah, for a pair of heels!"
Ami, despite herself, found her lips turning up in a faint smile. Catching
herself, Ami's face fell again. "Hey, Ami, what's wrong?" Minako queried,
peering from the mantle.
"What do you mean what's wrong?" Rei crackled at Minako. "She's stuck here,
that's what's wrong, stupid! I thought you were the rumormonger of the
castle! You didn't know that?"
"Of course!" Minako huffed, tossing an expanse of her long hair over her
shoulder. "But it's not so bad." Minako took on a more consolatory tone as
she addressed Ami. "Really. There's food," Minako's eyes went dreamy. "I
miss food."
"You don't eat?"
"How?" Minako asked, looking despairing. She tapped the inside of the
mirror. "No way to get any in."
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's all right. I can move around," she demonstrated the ability by
vanishing from the mirror. "Pick me up!" she heard from the dresser. Ami
found a handmirror laying on the top, and held it up. Minako was winking and
waving. "Portable Minako, at your express service."
"You think that's great?" Rei asked, arms folded smugly. "Watch this."
As Ami watched, the fireplace suddenly flew to life as the candle winked
out. The slightly larger form of Rei appeared in a wealth of fire, dancing
in the light for a few moments before pressing to the edge of the stones,
smiling.
"Show off." Minako muttered darkly.
Rei just grinned, then suddenly looked worried. "You'd better go. The
Master is waiting for you in the dining hall," then, almost as an
afterthought, she added, "You'd best not be late." The fire swirled out.
A set of feral eyes watched the girl enter the hall from the far end of the
table. It had been set, the chandelier above glittering in the crystal and
firelight, sending tiny prisms around the room. A starched white linen
tablecloth spilled onto the floor. Garnishings had been laid on the long
table, a platter of roast duck, dressed and trussed. A goblet of fine
vermilion wine sat at her chair, awaiting her seating. And of this, Ami saw
that the table had been set only for one.
The Beast saw the fear in her face, disguised as it was. She was not a one
to show her fear, great though it may be. The porcelain complexion was as
white as the bone china that was stored in the cupboards, her eyes tremulous
and faceted from the recent tears that made them sparkle. He had dressed for
dinner, if poorly, a ragged white cotton shirt, which did not quite tuck
into his black breeches.
He watched her move slowly but steadily into the chair, settling herself
neatly. Her clothes had not been changed, and were rumpled from his assault
that morning. "You didn't change for dinner," he told her, sounding
disapproving. Ami turned her hands within each other.
"No, milord."
She wasn't certain why she had given him a noble rank. She glanced up at
him though her lashes, seeing the response on his wolvish face. It was
small, the narrowing of eyes and the intensity increasing. She felt the
strain of his presence, and the hunger that had begun to grow in her belly
faded as she turned her stare to her filled plate.
"Are you not hungry?"
"No, milord." After a moment of silence, she added, "Nor are you."
She heard the chair he sat on scrape against the flagstones. She was not
expecting words to follow. "I do not eat as you."
He watched as more blood drained from her face, turning her deathly white.
The Beast saw her tension, and continued, "I eat alone. As a beast. Away
from here."
A brief, barely visible nod from the girl.
"Eat."
She stared at the slice of duck, and tentatively picked up her fork,
pressing it into the meat. She placed it in her mouth and chewed.
"Drink."
She sipped the wine, letting it run over her lips.
This seemed to satisfy him. "Good. You will dine at sunset. Every day. I
will join you." He slid off his chair, landing on all fours, tail flicking.
As he padded to the door, Ami heard herself say, "Don't hurt my mother."
He paused, looking over his shoulder at her. She was watching him out of
those blue eyes. An even look, questioning but with a slight tinge of worry
and fear. He snorted, a brief whuffle from his nose. "You pledged that you
would not leave me. In return, I keep my promise never to harm you or
yours." With that, he brushed though the door.
Ami's hands clenched around the armrests. "Harm, from you." She leaned back
into the chair, watching the plate. She was not hungry for such rich food.
The bite she had taken was settling heavily into her stomach. She pushed her
neck over the rim of the chairback, watching the rainbows on the ceiling.
A faint tinkle of china drew her attention back to the table. "Oh!" the
stranger exclaimed. "I'm sorry, please. I didn't mean to disturb you,
milady."
Ami gaped at the ghost before her. Then she shut her mouth. She had already
met a girl in a mirror and a firefairy. A ghost should be far more
believable. The spirit hovered, her plate in hand. Ami watched as she
floated away, the wall and paintings on it blurred by her ethereal body as
it passed, the solidity of her green eyes anchoring her ethereal image. No
feet peeked out from under her chartreuse skirts, which swirled where her
ankles should have been. A long ponytail of brown, held back by a teal
ribbon, floated around her head. She wore a white apron over her dress,
declaring her the chef of the small culinary masterpiece before her.
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't eat."
The eyes of the ghost crinkled as she laughed lightly. "It's all right. You
must be worried. I know I could never eat when I was worried."
"No stomach?"
"Mm Mm," the ghost shook her head, half smiling. "But you do. It'll be nice
to have someone to cook for again," her eyes trailed after the door that the
Beast had exited though. "He thinks it part of the curse to eat wild."
"Curse?"
"Mm?" Distracted by her own thoughts, the ghost snapped her attention back.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I drift off now and then. I was wondering your name,
milady?"
"Ami Mizuno. And you?"
"Makoto Kino. Chef to the empty castle. Would you like some bread? And some
cider, maybe, or lemonade? A bit lighter than this fare. Milord decided he
wanted you to eat well. You're very pale. The wine may help with that,
actually."
"Yes, I know. A restorative. But I really would prefer that cider you
mentioned."
Makoto immediately leapt into action, sweeping up her wine goblet along
with the plate. "Wait but a moment!"
In a flurry of shadowy cloth, Makoto flitted into the kitchen, the entrance
behind Ami's chair. Moments later, she returned, a plate of crusty bread and
a mug of spiced cider in hand. "Here you go. It'll help you feel better."
"Thank you."
"Anything, milady."
"Ami."
Makoto grinned, drawing a chair for herself. "Ami. Call me Mako."
She slept, but did not sleep, her eyes wide and watching the ceiling. She
played the events of the evening over in her mind. The appearance of Minako,
Rei, and Makoto. The strange things that had caused them to be such a way.
What that was, she didn't know, but felt quite certain that they were just
as human as she. And were meant to be that way. Servants in the castle? Or
people who lived here, at least? Drawing the cover over her chin, she
frowned, biting her lip. Puzzle. A puzzle. If they had lived in the castle
at the time of the disappearance of the servants and court, as was the
legend in town, then...perhaps then...they weren't dead? The Beast...hadn't
killed them? He did not seem to be a sorcerer of any sort. Were the people
trapped, as Makoto had explained? Minako within the glass. Rei within the
fire. Mako in her ghostly form, indentured to the kitchen and dining hall.
Who else was in the castle? If them, then...the prince? His court? An
enchantment, she decided. Mako had refused to tell her of what happened. How
they came to be this way. Only the circumstances of the current time. Ami
felt restless. Faintly, she heard a snore from the handmirror. She rolled
over and propped herself up, seeing a moonlit gloss on the mirror, the image
of an open mouthed Minako sleeping soundly within it. She turned, kicking
the night greyed covers off. There was too much on her mind to sleep. She
took up the candle.
"Rei?" she asked the wick, feeling slightly silly. "Are you awake? Or
there?"
A moment later, a pair of arms, then a face, yawned into view. "Ami? What?"
"I didn't mean to wake you," Ami whispered. "Sorry."
"Don't worry," Rei told her groggily. "I wasn't asleep..." she yawned,
"quite yet. Do you need something?" She emerged further from the candle,
glowing redly in the dark.
"Sh. Don't wake Minako."
Rei popped and the redness turned yellow for a moment. After a moment, Ami
realized that was how Rei made a derisive snort. "Nothing could wake that
sleeping beauty. Nothing short of the mirror shattering, at least. What do
you need?"
"Information, mostly. Come."
Ami slipped from her room, a spectre of white nightgown against the
engravings in the hallways. They moved slowly forward, Rei's glow passing
like a shadow down the corridors. Ami's pale white feet touched the cold
marble of the main hall. Slowly, she walked to the portrait of the young boy
that hung beside the clock. "The prince?" Ami asked, and Rei watched her
profile against the darkness.
"He was."
"Where is he now, Rei?"
Rei was interrupted by the sound of the first gong of midnight. It struck
hollowly, sending vibrations through the arches of the cathedral ceiling.
The pendulum swung lazily as it struck, ticking away time. The face of the
clock was a mosaic of tiny shattered tiles, swirling together into the shape
of two roses, one white, one red.
"Rei. Please answer me," Ami asked as the last strike faded away into the
pitch and hollow silence.
"He is gone now."
"He's not trapped? Not like you?"
"No, Ami. Not like me."
"Or Minako, or Makoto? There were many servants for a prince, weren't
there?"
Rei flickered, uncertain. She clasped her hands, wringing them slightly in
nerves. Her body flickered as she considered. "People become trapped, Ami.
By their own choices. The lord," she turned to the portrait, casting
conflicting lights into his face. "the lord is trapped by his decisions.
Same as we all are." She gestured to herself. "Ami. Please. It's late. You
should rest."
"I won't leave this. Not completely."
They returned to Ami's room, and Rei dulled her own glow. Ami rolled over
onto her side, watching the smiling face of Selene in the sky. She beamed in
through the windows, turning the embroidery of the bedspread a gleaming
silver. Slowly, Ami relaxed, her hair puddling onto the pillow. Rei watched
her drift into dreams, her eyes flickering under the lids. "Don't leave it,
Ami," Rei whispered, her words very light. "Please don't leave it...."
Exploration came the next morning, heralded by the sun's rays brushing
Ami's lightly closed eyelids. She rolled over a moment, sighed once, then
tossed the waves of covering off, kicking her feet to the ground and
stretching. A snore came from the mirror on the dresser, and she glanced
down with a smile at Minako's still sleeping face. Burying into the closet
and drawers, Ami assembled what would have been a slightly less ostentatious
version of what Minako had most likely originally planned. Mauve and
imperial purple, it was loose and soft, comfortable and practical, falling
in many folds at her feet, sleeves edged in gold. Exactly what she required
for her day's adventure.
Minako awoke just as Ami was slipping out the door, groggily shouting for
her to stop, rather loudly. That of course brought Rei flying out of the
fireplace, shouting back for her to keep it down. When they realized Ami had
vanished into the hallway, they tailed her, Rei leaping along the sconces
and Minako in various reflective surfaces. With her two tails, Ami wandered
to the kitchens, where she stopped and greeted Makoto, who had breakfast
nearly ready.
Full and curious, Ami set out to wander, Rei and Minako being most
informative guides in the course of her wandering. The Great Hall dwarfed
anything she had ever seen, and she could close her eyes and see the glory
the place must have once had, a starched white linen still waiting on the
long table. Coats of arms hung from rafters along the walls, and soulless
shells of armor stood vigil along the empty corridors. Ami would crane her
neck back until it hurt, watching the elaborate gargoyles and grotesques
that hid in the nooks and crannies that lay in the shadows. Fierce
creatures, gargoyles, but their snarling and fury belied a protective
warding against evil. Ami found many of these tucked into the halls.
She walked along the walls of the outdoors, up and down spiral cases of
stairs. At times, she felt as though she would be lost. Everything about the
castle seemed to be a spiral, rays shooting into many directions,
beautifully planned and executed, but as a labyrinth she could not quite
decipher. Rei and Minako at last led her to what they described as 'the
Master's small library'. And when Ami pulled open the curved handle to the
door, she discovered a room, cozy and snug, but high, with more books lining
the walls than she had ever seen at once, even in the Tomoe's bookshop.
After a half an hour of yawning boredly in her mirror, Minako headed for
the halls, receiving little more than a distracted wave from Ami, who was
busily nosing through a volume. Rei sparked and twirled in the fireplace a
bit, until she too grew bored waiting. Rei did not say goodbye, knowing Ami
was far too engrossed in her book.
She spent several hours there, making her way into an overstuffed sofa,
curled up with her head against the arm. She sighed, turning the final page,
shutting the book with a faint smile on her lips, running her fingers
lovingly over the vellum cover. "The Book of the City of Ladies, by
Christine dePizan." She leaned her cheek against the slender book, feeling
as though she could absorb more by osmosis, so let the words seep into her
mind through her skin.
Glancing up at the fireplace, she noticed at last that she was very much
alone in the study. Light had shifted in the narrow window, signaling that
it was early afternoon. She let her eyes roam, soaking in the texture of the
room fully, since she had instantly focused on the books, ignoring the rest
for the time being. A cherrywood desk sat in one corner, a lamp beside it,
unlit, with various quills sticking out of their cup. A Persian carpet had
been laid atop the hardwood floor, an intricate weaving of stylized
geometry. But the greatest feature in the room hung above the fireplace, the
image of a young man and woman, leaning against each other, him in a dark
cloak, sword at hip, and she in white, golden hair bound back doubly,
trailing long and floating around them. Each held the others hand, hers
resting in his, their eyes closed, lips turned up in pleasant smile, as
though the presence of the other caused them to smile in sleep, even though
they stood.
It was a dreamy image, and Ami, for a moment, could close her eyes,
imagining herself within the arms of a prince of her own, turning in a dance
among the roses as these two did. She stood from the chair, setting the book
on the small table beside her. She held her arms up, closing her eyes. For a
moment, she could feel a set of arms around her, contacting her skin through
the cloth of her gown, warming her. She did not move her feet, but felt
herself turning around the ballroom, her graceful movements perfect. She had
never danced before, but imagined it to be simple if learned right.
Suddenly, she snapped her eyes open. A silly dream. The face of the man who
held her in her mind was blurred, but the eyes were taking on a frightening
appearance, an intense but aloof chestnut she recognized from the portrait
in the main hall.
To shake herself out of the fantasy, she stepped to the window, placing a
hand on it, the contact of her fingers against the sun-warmed glass
reassuring her of solid reality. She let her eyes sweep across the scene
beyond the pane, and as she absorbed the beauty of it, she stepped back.
Hanging gardens had been carefully tended to by some unknown person, and the
colors bloomed in the afternoon light.
"Haven't been outside yet," Ami decided, skirts swirling around her as she
flowed out of the room, winding her way down a flight of stairs. She had
traveled far in her wanderings, meandering to the far west wings of the
castle, opposite her room not far from the entrance. She emerged onto a
porch, where pansies blossomed around her feet. The sweet scent of perfume
was heady here, and it was nearly dizzying.
The hedges twisted back and forth, and Ami slowly recognized the radius
that the maze was built on, which was more geometric than the castle's
winding halls. She worked her way to the center, following the chiming
sounds of a windchime, finding a gazebo of whitewash, heavy roses prickling
from their vines and stems, blossoming or budding. The beauty of it drew
her, despite her caution. She remembered the black rose that had begun this.
She felt a pang of loss. Ami had not been able to bid her mother goodbye.
And so far as she knew, her mother knew only of the note she had scribbled
before her journey. And so, Sayuri was likely to believe Ami dead.
Hopefully, Ami prayed silently, her mother would stay away. Oddly, she
trusted the Beast to keep his word, but the practical side of her wanted her
mother far away, safe.
And it was the Beast she saw when she set foot onto the wooden boards of
the steps to the gazebo, turning as the sound of her foot against the wood
creaked. He whirled at Ami's stealthy entrance, and appeared to be something
that Ami had not been expecting...embarrassed.
The Beast was holding a pair of clippers in his hand, apparently having
been pruning the bushes of roses that grew around the low fencing of the
gazebo. She watched him as he mastered the disconcerted look on his face,
tail flicking as he prepared himself to speak, perhaps yell.
Ami blurted an apology. "I'm sorry, milord. Forgive me for the intrusion. I
did not mean to disturb you, but the roses looked so beautiful," she
curtsied politely and hurriedly, nearly bobbing in her haste. She began to
step back, but heard the Beast's slightly surprised voice saying,
"You like my garden?"
Ami glanced up at him, and his canine face seemed genuinely surprised at
her comment. And in a state of surprise, it was open, the shaggy brows
arching.
"Yes, milord. It's beautiful."
He snorted. "Beauty. The only beautiful things in this castle were the
roses."
Ami frowned slightly, brows creasing. "Were, milord?"
He regarded her warily, as though trying to tell precisely how dangerous
Ami was. He set the clippers down on the fence ledge, then folded his arms,
looking unapproachable and aloof as he watched her from his brown eyes. His
ears flickered back and forth once or twice, then he seemed to settle into a
decision. "Were. Now you're here."
Ami couldn't quite help her shocked face. She was painfully aware of her
open mouth, but even more, she felt the heat of a flush rise to her face.
Now was hardly the time to blush. And she was hardly beautiful. Pretty,
perhaps, but beautiful? No, she was too odd for beauty, with azure hair and
her tiny features and oversized eyes. Better fit to a fairy than a human
girl.
"I'm hardly beautiful," Ami heard herself murmur, unable to take the
compliment, the grotesque source regardless.
"I know beauty when I see it," the Beast snarled, pacing on all fours for a
moment before uprighting himself. "I've been staring at my own ugliness for
so long."
"But you're not ugly," Ami exclaimed. Then she blinked, startled at her own
words. Why on earth had she said such a thing? The lupine face blinked back
at her, taken aback. He was a Beast, a monster.
And yet, she wondered, as she watched his profile. He held himself with a
calm quietness, a dignified but subtle way of carriage, the mark of a noble
born to his position. And slowly, she began to recognize it herself
consciously. The Beast was not ugly at all. Monstrous, inhuman, feral, but
calm, dignified, and at the moment, completely disconcerted. He was staring
at her, jaws parted. She could see the red of his tongue lolling within.
"No, you're not," she said quietly, but with a growing sense of certainty.
The Beast managed to splutter, "Then what, exactly, am I?" He began to back
away slightly from Ami, who had tilted her head to the side as she
considered him.
"Interesting."
"And that's good?"
Ami, for the first time since her arrival, laughed lightly. Now the Beast
cocked his head in observation, watching her laugh with her whole body,
shoulders shivering slightly as the light sound came from her mouth. "Oh,
yes!" Ami told him. "Beauty on the face, that comes and goes, but an
interesting face, that will last much longer, and be better remembered, even
if not pretty. Besides, a pretty face means very little if the person is
mean."
The Beast felt more and more of his ground being lost. He had felt in
control the night before, at dinner. She had been afraid of him then. But
the strange thing was, that he did not want her to be afraid. He watched
her, smiling at him, waiting for his response politely. Something had
changed, and he was not sure quite what it was. And that worried him.
"And the roses?" He asked her, shifting the subject of the conversation
away from himself. That was too volatile a subject, and too painful. "They
have thorns. Would that make them mean, or just interesting?"
Ami shook her head. He was missing the point. She stepped to a flower,
caressed the red petals. "A person can have thorns, and still be beautiful
in spirit. And it can make them interesting." For a moment, Ami thought of
Rei and her barbs at Minako from that morning and the night before. Despite
the prickly temperament, Rei seemed kind, and it was that forceful
personality that made her so unforgettable... and fiery, in a literal sense.
"You didn't kill the people within the castle, did you," Ami told him. She
did not make it a question, but a statement of fact.
"No."
She smelled the flower, breathing in the scent of rose, listening to the
chimes in the wind. "What happened?"
"A sorceress," he snarled, and Ami watched the walls around him rise. She
had broken through something before, and now he was retreating again,
hiding. The sorceress, then, was a sensitive subject. She wondered why.
"I'm sorry, milord."
He dropped to all fours, pacing. After a moment, he tossed his head. "I
will...join you for dinner tonight," he snapped, then leapt down the steps
on his side of the gazebo, racing into the safety of the castle. Ami stared
after him a moment, until distracted by a rose petal of white striking her
cheek. She brushed it aside, then glanced to her feet, finding many such
blossoms strewn on the ground, as though the roses had been weeping their
own petals.
The tide of evening rose up, and the stars and moon came out to turn around
the sky. Ami came to dinner, uncertain of what to expect. The Beast had said
he would join her, and now she was certain she would remain in the castle
unharmed. But her curiosity was peaking about the castle's inhabitants, and
she wished to learn more, but caution made her wary, careful not to press.
Having replayed the scene in the garden over in her head, Ami decided that
she would carefully press her luck at dinner. There was much she wished to
learn. She dressed for dinner that night, remembering the disapproval of the
Beast the night before. That, and she wanted to look well for him. He called
her beautiful. Still, that brought a pinkness to her cheeks, though she was
not quite sure why.
Minako had been eminently helpful with fashion advice, which was to be
expected. Donning several layers of petticoat, Ami felt a bit like an
overgrown bell, burnished bronze and buff, with long, wide, sleeves trailing
near to the floor, the bodice lined with ermine. Amber dragonfly combs
tugged back at the sides of her hair, waving it back in tiny cresting waves.
She turned before the mirror, which Minako was in, clapping her approval.
Descending to the Dining Hall, Ami flowed down the grand staircase, finding
many candles lit in her path. Today, Makoto had lit the entire hall, and the
fireplace was blazing heat and light. The table had been set, this time for
two. Ami noticed the massive utensils at one end, a butcher knife and a
pronged fork used for basting. Her own were smaller, normally sized and
curled silver.
She was not late, arriving moments before the Beast. Now his shirt had been
washed, starched white. He looked uncomfortable, but made his way to his end
of the table silently, gesturing at her to sit. She obeyed, drawing up the
chair behind her. Uncertain how to begin, Ami remained silent through most
of the meal, eating the dishes that appeared before her. Tact, she wanted,
but was uncertain how to begin.
Finally giving up racking her brains for an oblique, polite way of
starting, Ami tried the direct approach. "Why did you allow my mother to
return home?"
The Beast glanced up from his slightly awkward attempt to spear a piece of
roast turkey leg. He grunted softly, set the fork down and simply tore it
off the bird, crunching down to the bone with his canines. Done chewing, he
watched her from across the long table, considering. "She told me she wished
to say goodbye to you."
"And that was reason enough?"
"Mph," the Beast agreed, frowning down at his plate as though to fight off
something. After a moment, he continued, "A parent who cares for their child
should be able to say goodbye."
For a moment, Ami felt a memory resurface. Something that had happened
several years ago now. The image of a man, handsome in her memory, looming
above her, hair falling into his eyes. "Goodbye, Ami," the man said, and
then she had seen his back retreating out the door, her mother's arms
wrapped around her to hold her back from chasing him. Father had left. Every
once and a while, she would receive a letter from him, addressed to her
alone, and not to her mother. Ami would read it, wanting news of her father,
but would then promptly burn it in the fireplace. To find such a letter
would bring her mother grief, and that she would not allow.
"Don't cry, Ami," she glanced up, startled. The Beast had half risen from
his chair, leaning over the table. He looked concerned. She fluttered her
eyes, trying to understand why he had told her not to cry. To her surprise,
she discovered a tear stain on the tablecloth. "Don't cry."
She smiled though it. "I'm sorry. It's nothing, really."
He didn't believe her, but returned to his seat, warily watching.
"And your parents?" Ami asked him, picking up her goblet of wine and taking
a sip. "Do you have any?"
The Beast chuckled, and Ami felt her brows rise in surprise. He had a low,
throaty laugh, and the scowl on his face was replaced fully by it. "Everyone
has parents, Ami."
She giggled once at the joke. It felt good to do so, to laugh along with
him, so easily. He stood suddenly, and strode to her end of the table. She
stopped laughing as he approached, the tinge of fear returning at the abrupt
motion. But he offered her his arm, and waited for her to take it.
Reluctantly, she did, fingers wrapping around his arm. She could feel the
fur beneath the cloth, which rippled as he guided her out the doors.
They strolled down the hallways, and after a moment, Ami relaxed again,
letting him lead them to the main hall, and the great clock that graced it.
After a moment, he stopped, looking up at the portrait of the boy. "My
parents," the Beast began slowly, taking his time as he spoke, "left me to
be raised by servants. They traveled a great deal. I hated to move. I was
brought here. I remember the night that the enchantress came. It was my
twelfth birthday. I had received a letter, from my father, promising he and
my mother would come. I waited for hours."
Ami looked at the profile of the Beast. He was holding his head high,
chestnut eyes steady. "They never came."
"No."
She touched his arm with her other hand, in reassurance. Then she looked at
the picture again, watching the aloof, distant eyes. The cold demeanor. But
in the candlelight of the chandeliers and candelabras, and in the presence
of the Beast and his tale, it seemed, instead, sad. Ami felt a chill, and
she shivered. The Beast looked to her at once, face questioning her sudden
shudder. "I'm all right," she told him. But now she was able to place the
pieces before her together.
The portrait was of the human Beast.
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